


Roam Again, Home Again

by HopeStoryteller



Series: stay close (move fast) [10]
Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: (F I N A L L Y), F/M, Let Sam Yao Say Fuck, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post S3M48, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27150089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeStoryteller/pseuds/HopeStoryteller
Summary: Is it really the same? Will it ever be the same? Five is finally going home, but... is it the same? Isshethe same?She knows she's not the same. Not after everything she's done. But maybe, just maybe, they'll take her back. (They shouldn't. She doesn't deserve it.)
Relationships: Runner Five/Sam Yao
Series: stay close (move fast) [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698457
Kudos: 9





	Roam Again, Home Again

The van ride goes in silence, mostly. Well, Simon’s humming what sounds vaguely like a song from one of the last James Bond movies in the passenger seat, and the van itself isn’t _quiet_ exactly, but Amelia wouldn’t be much for conversation if she wasn’t driving and for that matter, Five doesn’t want to talk to them anyway.

Five, Five, Five. That’s all she is now, isn’t it? Five wonders if Simon even remembers she had another name before all this. She _knows_ Amelia didn’t bother to learn hers before betraying Abel too. That’s the only reason they’re bringing her back: because then she’ll owe them, and they’ll be able to get something out of it.

Or maybe they’re just bitter about Moonchild. Five can _very much_ relate to that.

“Still not gonna say a word, Five?” Simon asks.

Five glares at him. In the backseat, she pulls her legs up to her chest and hugs them.

 _“Can_ she even talk?” Amelia asks disdainfully.

The glare intensifies and is redirected in full towards the driver. Five wants to scream at her, to tell her _yes_ she can fucking talk, but the words stick. Just like they always do when she needs to say something important, but worse. Maybe it’s Moonchild’s fault, except this started before Moonchild.

 _Long_ before Moonchild.

“Rude,” Simon says in a moment of surprising compassion. “And yes, she can, she just chooses not to most of the time. Believe me, you wouldn’t forget it if she’d kicked _your_ ass in Uno.”

She’s not grateful. She isn’t. But she appreciates it more than he knows.

There’s something at the back of her mind, a familiar tug that doesn’t quite feel like Moonchild, something _almost_ like words. She closes her eyes and thinks back the words _NOT NOW_ as strongly as she dares. For all she knows, it _could_ be Moonchild.

The tug falls silent and goes away, just as the van skids to a stop.

“We’re here,” Amelia says. “Or more accurately, we’re about 400 yards away from your destination, because I know _exactly_ what the range of those cameras are and I _don’t_ want them seeing who’s driving. Get out or I’m knocking you out and leaving you there.”

Five does not particularly want to be knocked out again anytime soon. She hops to her feet, pulls open the backdoor, and closes it behind her. No words spoken. No words needed. So, so many words wanted.

The van makes a u-turn and speeds off into the growing twilight. Nothing but Five now. Nothing but Five, and Abel, and about four hundred yards between her and them. Between her and Sam. Between her and… Janine?

What does Janine have to do with anything? Minus the fact that she’ll probably shoot Five on the spot, and it’ll be _well-deserved._

_No, she won’t._

Wait, what?

“Eight?” Five asks aloud, even as she starts jogging. No response. When did she start being able to talk again? “Sara?”

Still no response. She must be hearing things, there’s no such thing as ghosts. Of course she would still be hearing things, after _everything._ After nearly killing… she shouldn’t go back. She _shouldn’t_ go back, but how can she not? Abel’s home.

But is it still for her? Or is she just the next Simon, the next Amelia, the next and never last in a long line of traitors?

Too late to back out, they’ve seen her now. Shouts ring out from the walls. Five slows to nearly a walk and holds up her hands in surrender. Maybe that’ll keep them from shooting her on sight. Maybe pigs’ll fly, too. Well, they do in Minecraft, but that’s not the point and if anyone in Abel has a working copy of Minecraft, they’re not sharing. If they shoot her, she’ll deserve it. What does _Simon_ know about forgiveness?

Absolutely fucking nothing, that’s—

_No, they won’t, no, you don’t, and really, more than you know._

—what.

“You’re not real,” Five tells the voice in her head.

_If you say so._

The gates open enough for two runners to slip out. One in Abel colors, one in… Canton colors? Is that _Robin?_ What are they doing here? They should still be with Nadia and Veronica, and the other runner—

No. _Oh_ no. Five can’t face Jody—Four—Jody now.

_She faced you, didn’t she?_

“Shut the _fuck_ up.”

Whatever it is talking to her in Eight’s voice, it blessedly shuts up, just in time for the runners to reach her. Out of the firing pan and into the fryer. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The rapidly spiraling out of control wildfire that’ll burn her down with it, and she deserves it.

“Five!” Jody shouts. “Is that you? Is that _actually_ you?”

Words failing her, Five nods. Tears well up in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so—“

“I know.” Jody strides up beside her and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“She’s not talking to you,” Robin says, swatting Jody’s hand off Five’s— _Abel_ Five’s—shoulder. “Don’t touch her. She could be faking it.”

“I almost wish I was,” Five says miserably. “I’m sorry, I—Sam. Is he—“

“He’ll live.”

That’s better than the alternative, and yet Five slumps down even further. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell it to him yourself when you see him,” Jody says. She gets a sharp look from Robin. _“If_ you see him. Janine’s working comms. You don’t get left alone with anyone unsupervised until we _know_ you’re back—and definitely not someone injured.”

“You should have more than two people. Or at least bind me somehow.” Five offers up her wrists.

From somewhere, Robin produces a length of cable and does the honors. “Janine agrees. We’re just the welcoming party.”

* * *

Hours upon hours of tests later, the doctors determine that Five’s in the clear, much to the collective relief of—well, most people, but Five most of all. She isn’t _immune_ to mind control, probably—but she’s been snapped out of it this once.

She lies, when they ask her who brought her back. She lies and tells them she didn’t know who it was, just that it was two people who were _really fucking pissed_ at Moonchild, and that they didn’t trust Abel enough to drive her any closer. She lies, and it _hurts_ to lie, but it’s accepted eventually. More or less.

Janine definitely knows, but she doesn’t voice her suspicions. Neither does Jody, if she’s got them.

She finally gets in to see Sam late that night. She wouldn’t blame him at all for not wanting to see her, she’d—she’d _stabbed him._ Moonchild had told her to stab him and she’d _listened,_ and everything got fuzzy for a while after that. And he’s sitting on a cot in medbay, holding his bandaged side, facing away from her.

She can’t do this. Ramona _can’t do this._ How can she, after… after what she’d done. But her feet keep moving anyway, almost of her own accord, until she’s plopped down on the cot beside him.

“Hi,” Ramona says.

He looks over. His eyes go wide. _“FIVE!_ Maxine told me you’d come back but they weren’t sure if you were—well, that is to say...“

“Myself, I know. I’m… I’m so sorry, I couldn’t—I’m sorry I _knew_ and you knew and you should have stayed away from me, you were literally the only person who knew it wasn’t me!”

“Five…”

“And I fucking _stabbed you_ and I’m not even sure what happened after that but it was… I was tripping _balls_ for a while and it was… you were there and—“

 _“FIVE!_ Listen to me,” Sam says. He’s scooted closer. When did he scoot closer? “It wasn’t you. You were mind-controlled, I’m just glad you’re back now.”

Five looks down at her hands and shudders. “What if I’m not?”

There’s an arm around her shoulder’s. Sam’s arm. Around her shoulders. “Hey. It took some kind of weird hypnosis voodoo thing to get you under in the first place. We’re not letting her take you again. Alright?”

“Alright,” Five says despite herself. Despite everything. “You can’t promise that.”

“Still gonna.”

“Of course you are.” Five sighs, looks down, but makes no move to… well, move. “There’s… something I need to talk to you about.”

“Gotcha. We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but… uh, the tripping balls part. After S—some weirdo broke into Abel and jabbed me with a needle?”

“I do _not_ remember that as well as you clearly think I do.”

Of course he doesn’t. He was—bleeding—

“Sanatarium,” Five blurts. “I ran to a sanatorium. And I—I was hallucinating for a while, I think. Archie was there. And Sara. And—well, even my tripping balls subconscious remembered how little I liked psychiatrists because Van Ark was the shrink.”

Sam makes a disgusted noise. “What the _fuck,_ Mona’s subconscious?”

“Yeah, that’s not… the weirdest thing. It was—you were there, for a bit? You broke me out of there. The hallucination and the sanatarium _in_ the hallucination? I don’t know.” Mona shakes her head. Before she can talk herself out of it, she continues, “I-I’m not sure, but I… you said you’d always be there for me, which is normal but you were wearing a ring and _I_ was wearing a ring and it was—“ She laughs. “How fucked up is that, that my subconscious apparently decided we were married?”

“That’s… honestly the least fucked up thing I’ve heard from you about this,” Sam says quietly.

“I—really?”

“Mmm. I couldn’t quite say this when… well, this happened,” he gestures at his bandages, Five tries to ignore the familiar pang of guilt screaming for her to get up and run somewhere, _anywhere._ “But I—you mean a lot to me, Five.”

“You mean a lot to me too,” Five agrees, but she knows she doesn’t mean it the same way he undoubtedly means.

“No, that’s not what I…” Sam groans. “Hey. I think you’re really cool. I like you a lot. Maybe we could… hang out or something?”

He’s grinning so nervously by the end that it takes her a few seconds to figure out that he just quoted one very specific meme nearly word for word. And it’s—

“It’s fine if not, obviously,” Sam continues sheepishly, “I know you’re gay, and that’s super understandable, girls are amazing—“

“Yeah, they are, but who the _fuck_ told you I was gay?”

“Well, no one, but you’re not straight and you had a girlfriend before the apocalypse—“

“Uh, so did Paula? And she’s bi? Or maybe pan, never actually asked but—wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

 _“I like you a lot,”_ Sam repeats earnestly, and more emphatically than before. “And yeah, I knew Paula was bi, I just didn’t think—you’re pan? Or bi?”

“Bi, going to take a wild guess _you’re_ pan since you never have a plan?”

 _“Hey!_ You’re not wrong, but _hey.”_

They sit in an oddly comfortable silence for a while. With every second that passes, Ramona becomes increasingly more aware of Sam’s arm around her shoulders, but neither of them move.

“So… you like me,” Five says slowly, “and I like you.”

Sam stiffens. “You _do?_ Uh… why?”

“If I need to tell you why, you need a new pair of eyes. And ears. And your memory’s failing you. I’m way too tired to get into it right now but the short version is just… that you _are_ always there for me. You’ve saved my life so many times, you _knew_ it wasn’t me and you still tried to bring me back, and you… well, you mean a lot to me.” Five laughs. “Probably part of why I completely lost it after I thought…”

“I’m fine,” Sam says. “Not in the dog in a house on fire way, but, you know. Alive. Not a zom. Not gonna die anytime soon. That’s really all we can hope for these days, isn’t it?”

Five sighs, and leans into him a little more. “Yeah. It is.”

(When Maxine comes in to check on them a couple hours later, she’s greeted with a completely passed out Sam and a mostly-asleep Five who lifts her head just to give Maxine a glare. Maxine raises her hands in a gesture of surrender, mouths the words _about damn time,_ and slips back out.)

(In the end, it’s Janine that makes the most money from the betting pool finally cashing in.)


End file.
